


Six Weeks

by LadyLondonderry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Homophobia, M/M, Post-it Notes, thats a real tag wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A little after 5:30, the bells above the door chime and the only face with an order that Harry remembers steps in. With the sun shining outside, Louis no longer looks like a mudslide personified, although Harry notes that he's still not really dressed for the weather</i>
</p><p> </p><p>When Harry takes the afternoon shift at the cafe, he meets a boy who drinks a lot of tea and never remembers his umbrella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Six

**Author's Note:**

> There's a wonderful playlist located [here](http://8tracks.com/lirries/possibly-maybe-i-m-falling-for-you) by my wonderful art partner [mermaidintheam ](http://mermaidintheam.tumblr.com)

_  
**Six Weeks Until Christmas**  
_

It feels like the sun hasn’t been out in weeks.

Rain sheets down, crashing against the windows with a sound that would be jarringly loud if it wasn’t for the steady thrum of voices and the undercurrent of BBC Radio 1 filtering around the coffee shop. The sun might have set hours ago, or it might still be shining, up far above the miserable mess that is the British sky, but the warm glow from the mismatched lights in the ceiling and in the lamps at the tables keeps a feeling of coziness and safety alive.

Harry tinkers with the displays of fresh biscuits and indie CDs arranged between the registers and display cases, one hand holding onto the triple espresso meant to keep him awake as he works; it's only sort of helpful.

The bells above the door chime as the rain for a second hits the indoor rug at full force; the rhythmic pounding reaching a moment of climax before the door closes again. Rapid footsteps make the short walk to the counter as Harry focuses his attention away from alphabetizing and sneaking chocolate crumbs.

"The usual."

The man has dark fringe and sharp cheekbones. And he is _sopping_ wet. Water runs in rivulets down his face and sticks his jumper to his torso, surely pooling at his feet.

"Um, well," Ah yes. Public speaker, that's Harry. "Um, I don't actually know your usual?"

The man had been fishing coins out of his pockets, but he looks up at the response, apparently not having noticed who he was talking to. "Oh, um... You're not Liam." Harry can see he's shivering, as would anybody who has been out in this weather.

"Yeah, sorry mate. I've switched Zayn and Liam shifts on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I normally work early mornings."

"Oh..." He looks... sad? Uncomfortable? Maybe both. Well, why wouldn't he be? He clearly did not have any close relationship with an umbrella, or even a proper coat, by the looks of it.

"But if you tell me your usual, I'll be sure to memorise it!" Harry jumps in, hoping cheerfulness could be an answer to at least one of whatever this guy has as troubles. "I'm very good at memorising things. One lady comes in every morning and orders a small triple espresso hazelnut toffee iced coffee with half skim, half half-n-half with no whip but double caramel topping. See? You can count on me!" He's babbling. He's not sure if it's working. Oh, God, the only thing Harry's ever been good at is making people smile. If he can't even do _that_ -

A corner of the man's mouth quirks up. Harry's panic subsides a little.

"Tea. Yorkshire tea."

He's looking Harry right in the eyes, and oh, they're a very nice blue. Probably the color is amplified by the reflection of the water still running down his face, but Harry isn't one to complain. "Oh, that's easy!" he grabs one of the ceramic mugs below the counter - blue, darker than the stranger's eyes - and scribbles the order of YORKSHIRE HOT WATER PLS down the side. "That's a pound fifteen. And what's the name for the order?"

At the mention of price, the man is searching his pockets again, pulling out the clinking metal pieces. "Ah, it's Louis, hold on..." several small change pieces are dropped on the table, the kind of money that one would pull out of the cracks in a plush chair. "Sorry, I, um... don't tend to have exact change..."

Which Harry thinks is a sort of strange comment because this man - Louis - apparently _does_ carry exact change, as exemplified by the coins that Harry counts as he puts them in the register, but he rolls with it. "It's no problem at all! Happens to the best and worst of us. This'll be ready in a hot fresh minute, okay?"

As Harry writes the name down on the cup, Louis nods, his smile gone again, and ambles off between tables. Harry watches him go for a moment - _why does he look so_ sad _is it just the rain Harry loves rain it's like a slow song from the sky_ \- then turns his attention back to the mug. Wait, this part isn't his job. "Niall!"

"Shush, mate, I'm right here." Harry looks down. Yes, there's his faithful coworker. Doing what is expected of all hardworking coworkers. Sitting under the counter between jars of flavoured syrup eating a bag of crisps. 

Harry drops the mug in his lap.

"'M on it, mate!" Niall cackles, jumping up and into action as if he had not just spent the last ten minutes shirking all responsibilities.

As Harry takes the order of the new woman who has just walked in the door and is shaking out her umbrella, Niall fills up the cup with steamy water and unceremoniously drops a tea bag into it, before reading the name on the side. "Lewis!" he shouts, placing the cup on the counter.

Harry smacks him upside the back of his head as he leans down to retrieve his bag of chips at Harry's feet.

"Try again, I _know_ you know how to read."

"Fine, fine," Niall walks back over to the mug and made a dramatic show of pointing at it and shouting, just as loud, "Louis!"

The man in question has already walked up to claim his drink, and jumps noticeably when Niall shouts his name at him at less than a yard away. He looks startled, his blue eyes a little too wide for a moment, but grabs his mug and moved away to administer milk and sugar to it at the smaller self serve counter without further comment.

"Aw," Niall frowns, "He was supposed to laugh at that."

"Not everyone is a fan of your spectacular Irish wit, Nialler," Harry drawls, "I actually don't remember anyone ever cracking up when you call their name wrong. Now, fill these next orders or I'm telling Bobby you spent your shift under the counter again."

Niall gasps, "Y' wouldn't dare!" but he grabs the next two marked mugs and begins mixing the drinks. Really, Bobby wouldn't do much of anything, since Niall is his own son and practically owns the place, but they can still pretend. Empty threats. Harry is good at those.

As Harry continues to take order from customers coming in to escape the cold and wet, he finds himself occasionally (more than occasionally?) glancing over at Louis. The man has taken a large plush chair in the corner pointed toward the window, and curled up, his knees to his chest, staring out the window at the rain and sipping his drink. He doesn't look at his phone, as so many others in the coffee shop are doing, and he doesn't have any homework or other work to distract himself with. Harry continues to take orders and Niall continues to fill them (or hide), and Louis just sits there.

People filter in and out as the night goes on. Harry hadn't exactly been looking forward to his first evening shift - he's so much more a morning person, it's so much easier to be chipper and nice to customers as the sun rises and the prospect of a new day dawns - but that wasn't so difficult after all. And it's only two days a week, if that's any consolation. He takes more orders. Niall makes more drinks. The night goes on.

The cafe closes at 8 o’clock, and at 7:55 Harry looks up to see Louis placing his mug on the counter in front of him. Louis meets his eye for only a moment before looking down and turning away, walking through the almost deserted coffee shop and back out the chiming door and into the cold night, the rain having let up less than an hour before.

Harry glances at the cup. It must have been empty for hours, or else Louis had a strong affinity for drinking cold tea, which would be absolutely repulsive and Harry might need him checked into a mental institution.

"Oi, Harry." 

Niall grabs him from behind, jumping up and piggybacking him, almost pulling Harry backward.

"Yeah? You're heavy as fuck you know."

"Yeah I know," there's a smile in his voice, "I'm going out for a pint. Join me?"

Harry shakes his head and unceremoniously drops Niall onto the floor behind him. " _Some_ of us actually take our classes seriously, and since we switched shifts specifically so I could make it to my Tuesday Thursday class, I think I actually need to do the homework associated with it."

Niall grimaced. "Suit yourself mate, I'm off."

Harry closes up shop behind him. New "usuals" to learn, new faces to see, more coffee to drink. Evening shift's not as bad as it could be.

-

Two days later, Thursday morning, Harry has every intent on going to class. Doing well in lecture. Paying attention. Being an early bird, he certainly has that _ability_ but, well, Zayn and Liam are not early birds and just this once, he decides to take the morning off to sit at the coffee shop and watch them perform.

He's not really disappointed.

Zayn and Liam have worked out a system. A sickeningly sweet system. Harry's been witness to it more than a few times when he's been studying at the cafe in the evenings. Liam always takes the orders at the register (that's Harry's position during his shift, management thinks it's easier for one person to be the main person on drinks, so Harry's job has always seemed significantly easier. It's much simpler to write complicated drink orders onto the cups than to be the one trying to make them, and while technically Harry has been trained to be able to field either position, Niall learned early on that Harry behind the scenes trying to fill a cup with scalding hot coffee is never a good idea, and they both had the burns to prove it). So while Liam writes orders, Zayn's artistic side is perfect for making every drink look as hand-crafted and one-of-a-kind as any hipster coffee joint could dream of. And every time he puts a new mug down on the counter and calls a name, he turns to Liam and plants a quick peck on his cheek. Really, he must use a lot of chapstick, right? Harry's seen them fill orders for hours at a time, and the routine doesn't change, Liam rewards him with a small smile but otherwise never makes any other sign of noticing Zayn's actions. Sickeningly sweet.

It also means more than a few customers have left the cafe in absolute revulsion, but Liam and Zayn are good friends with Niall, and Niall says fuck them all so it's a good case of good riddance all around.

This is Zayn and Liam's second day attempting morning shift though, and Harry is rewarded with two sleepy grumpy looks as he pops behind the counter to pour himself a drink (perks of working at a coffee shop: free coffee whenever you want it, and free coffee even when you don't want it).

Zayn growls wordlessly at him, squinting his eyes as if the lights above him are ten times as bright as they actually are.

"Harry." Liam perches on the stool in front of the register, his elbows on the counter in front of him and his hands trying to protect his face from the horror that is six in the morning. "Harry what the fuck."

Harry smiles. He pours himself plain black coffee. "What?"

"Harry mate, what the fuck is wrong with you? How are you awake? Any why the fuck are you awake _here_?"

Harry slides down the back of the counter, near Liam's feet, and takes a sip of the coffee. It burns a little. That was probably a bad plan on his part, but he's not too miffed now. This is _fun_. "I just wanted to see how you two were getting along, Liam! Make sure you're adjusting to the time change and all that. Clearly, you’re not."

Zayn growls again.

Liam is interrupted with a new customer coming through the doors. Older woman. Orders a hazelnut iced coffee. Liam writes the order on a mug that Harry hands up to him and takes her money. "There's a reason I've kept to the evening shift. Nobody should be awake at this ungodly hour. Nobody."

Harry chuckles and watches Zayn fill the cup, place it on the counter, and, almost begrudgingly, land a kiss on Liam's cheek. Liam pats Zayn's hair lovingly (clearly he can tell Zayn needs the emotional support, this being an 'ungodly hour' and all that), and Zayn leans into him, his eyes closed and threatening to leave the land of the awake at any moment.

"Zayn, you know you're standing on my foot, right?" Harry drawls from the floor below them. Zayn doesn't move. "Zayn." he gets no response. "Zayn, make yourself something caffeinated or I will do it for you."

Zayn opens his eyes long enough to glare down below him. "You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me."

Zayn know this is not an empty threat. Harry knows he remembers the chai tea incident. Harry feels a swift kick to his legs as Zayn shuffles away to grace the world with another amazing creation.

Harry opens his bag and takes out the textbook for the class he is currently not attending. Sipping his coffee (cooler now, thank God), he spends the next hour highlighting passages (mostly at random) and listening to Liam take orders. Zayn's cappuccino (triple mocha and more whipped cream than should be legal) finally wakes him up to the point where he is only normal grumpy instead of excessively grumpy, and he force feeds Liam some of it too, so the mood does return almost to bright and cheerful. A couple people ask after Harry and Niall - none by name, clearly they're not _that_ memorable, but Harry still finds it sweet that they're asking - and he resists the urge to pop up and announce his presence. He's not some sort of famous celebrity like he's in a boy band or something. He just wishes he is.

During the ten o’clock lull, an hour before Liam and Zayn call off work and are replaced by Sophia and Eleanor, Harry asks about regulars. "Like, do you have a lot of them? Because we get a lot of the same people on their way to work in the morning but I was thinking maybe it was different for the evening, since people come to study and stuff."

Liam nods, "Yeah, I don't think we get the same number of regulars that you guys do, but there are a couple. Mostly just simple orders like black coffee or a bagel, they don't seem to go as much for the fancy drinks after the sun is up." Zayn nods his assent, and Liam continues, "didn't expect anyone to actually ask after you though, you must be a pretty memorable barista for them to have remembered your name."

Okay, a couple old ladies had remembered Harry's name. He still feels flattered by it. Then he remembers, "Oh yeah, there was one guy on Tuesday though! Said his name was Louis, he asked about you. Told him we switched shifts and all that." 

Zayn finishes a double espresso and pecks Liam on the cheek, "Oh yeah, Louis. He's here five days a week, dunno about weekends. Yorkshire tea, right? Miffy with two spoons of sugar."

That’s some information worth remembering. "He didn't tell me how he wanted his tea. Just asked for Yorkshire."

"Oh, poor guy," Liam shook his head, "He does love his tea a very specific way, but I remember it took a few weeks before he mentioned it to me. Didn't seem to want to trouble us or something, like it's not my job or something." Something seems to occur to him then, "Oh and, um, I kind of stopped charging him full price for his drink..."

Harry looks up at him, "Oh yeah? He have money money trouble or something?"

"I dunno, he just always seemed a little strapped. Always digging in his pockets like it was everything he owned, and I felt bad. Told him we dropped our prices and tea was fifty pence. Don't think he bought it but he never argued."

"Well Jesus, Payne!" Harry aimed a light punch as far up as he could reach - Liam's knee, "and here I was making him pay full price because I didn't know. Any other regulars you changed the rules for?"

Liam cocks his head and thinks seriously for a minute (it wasn't really a serious question, Harry thinks, but Liam's just that type), "No," he says finally, "I don't think so."

Zayn punches him in the shoulder, harder than Harry (Liam frowns and looks at Zayn with his big puppydog eyes), "Nah mate, what about those business guys who come in a few days a week? The ones who called you a fag? You definitely charge them double."

Liam's cheeks colour and he looks down, mumbling something about deserving what's coming to them and being able to afford it. Harry laughs.

-

Harry starts to wonder, a couple hours later, why he thought it was a good idea to get up that early to visit with Liam and Zayn (okay, he would have been up that early anyway, but that is clearly not the point), when he was already going to be in the coffee shop for the evening shift just a few hours later. It seems like an awfully long time to be confined to such a small space, even if that space is constantly filling and emptying with wonderfully fascinating strangers. He therefore takes the lunch shift to his utmost advantage (Eleanor has never seemed that big a fan of his anyway, although Perrie is quite nice), and gate-crashes Liam and Zayn's apartment for a few hours, taking up their entire couch with his exceedingly long legs and going through his e-mail on his phone (a quick email to the lecturer informing him that Harry was on-death's-doorstep-sick and asking what he missed), and playing game after game of Bejeweled and Flappy Bird until Zayn tells him to get his ass up and do something with his life, so he gives back to the community by making toasties for everyone, and blasting the only appropriate cooking music - Adele - from his phone.

At four thirty he starts the walk back to work, and meets with Niall in time to wave El and Perrie goodbye and take over for the afternoon. Niall has a backpack stuffed with subs from the fast food place down the road and grabs one out of his backpack, seemingly at random, and hands it to Harry.

"Didn't see you at class today?" he grabs another one for himself and unwraps it. "Thought this class was oh-so-important to ya. Bored of English Grammar already?"

Harry inspects the sandwich handed to him, before unwrapping it and tearing off part of the bread. Sandwiches are best eaten one piece at a time. "Well Ni, sometimes grammar is better left undiscovered. Brings more discoveries for later in life, you know?"

Niall nods sagely, as if this is a perfectly reasonable explanation. Harry reckons that, to Niall, it probably is. 

They eat their sandwiches in peace (Niall finishing well before Harry, and devouring another _two_ because he clearly is a bottomless pit), filling orders as people come in after classes for their afternoon pick-me-ups. Harry recognizes a couple of them from the Tuesday before, although he doesn't remember if they ordered the same thing last time that they order now. Something occurs to him as he's trying fruitlessly to remember the orders, though, and he pulls out his marker and a mug and scribbles down the side MIFFY YORKSHIRE TWO SUGARS and under that LOUIS. He places the cup back under the counter with the others to wait and see if he gets the chance to use it. Maybe Louis will be impressed. Maybe he'll smile this time. At least it's not raining, so there's no way he'll look as miserable this time, right?

Niall gives him a look when Harry scribbles on the cup and puts it back with the others, but doesn't comment on it. He just starts his last sandwich, washing it down with a caramel macchiato. There's no way Niall can be human. Maybe he's a black hole. Maybe he's a robot, and whatever he eats is transported to starving kids in Africa. Yeah, that must be it. Like a robot super hero.

Maybe Harry definitely didn't get enough sleep last night.

A little after 5:30, the bells above the door chime and the only face with an order that Harry remembers steps in. With the sun shining outside, Louis no longer looks like a mudslide personified, although Harry notes that he's still not really dressed for the weather (a jumper and skinny jeans but still no coat or hoodie of any kind). He walks up to the counter and opens his mouth to talk but Harry cuts him off.

"Yorkshire tea, right?" he asks flashing him a grin, "Your usual?" 

Louis looks taken aback for a moment, "Uh, yeah exactly." He starts searching his pockets.

"That'll be fifty p." Harry says, inputting the information to the cash register, looking away from Louis as he says it. 

Louis stares at him, his brow knitted together and lips pursed. "You said last time-"

"Last time was my first day doing evening shift! Everyone makes mistakes their first day, right?" Harry, of course, doesn't mention the fact that he has been working at this cafe in the mornings for over a year. That part's clearly not important.

Louis keeps his eyes locked on Harry a bit longer, but he's holding up a small queue of people and he knows it, so rather than argue he pulls out a few coins from his pockets and deposits them on the counter before him.

Harry snatches them up with a "Thank you! It'll be one moment!" and puts them in the cash register, before taking out the cup that he wrote on earlier and handing it to Niall. Niall, who had watched this whole exchange. Niall, who would certainly be questioning him about this later, but for the moment just reads the cup and does as directed. Good old Niall.

Louis wanders away to find a spot in the coffee shop to claim as his own, Harry helps the next man in line, and Niall follows the mug's instructions. A minute later an Irish voice calls "Louis!" 

Harry pauses in his workings to glance over at Louis as he walks over and takes up the mug, steam curling from the top. He glances into the mug, a confused look in his eyes, and then brings it up to eye level so he can read the writings on the side. Harry suddenly starts to wonder if this was a bad idea. Does this make him seem like a stalker? Giving Louis the right order even though Louis had never actually told him how he likes his tea? Yeah, that sounds a little weird. Oh God, he's going to think Harry's insane. He's going to think Harry's stalking him. Or looking over the secret files of orders that coffee shops always keep in the back so that cops can track serial killers and terrorists by the drinks they drink.

No, the coffee shop doesn't have those. No coffee shop has those. Calm down, Harry.

Louis glances at Niall (working on another drink), and then at Harry (looking at the cash register, counting change, being professional, looking ANYWHERE BUT AT LOUIS), and Harry waits until he walks away before he chances looking up. Louis has once again seated himself in a plush chair in front of one of the windows. He's brought a textbook of some kind (Harry can’t quite see what it is, but it's clearly too large to be a regular novel), and is holding the cup up to his lips, not drinking it yet, but breathing it in. Harry grins to himself because he can see that Louis is _smiling_ , which he definitely wasn't doing when he came in.

Another soul's day improved, another job well done.

Harry continues taking orders until about seven when there's a lull in customers. Niall sneaks donuts for them out of the display case - powdered for Niall and strawberry jam filled for Harry - and they lounge behind the counter together, Harry slouching on his stool and Niall at his preferred spot on the floor, half under the shelf of mugs. Niall is texting a girl that he's met in one of his classes about a party that's going on that night. He informs Harry that this means he'll probably get back to the flat in the wee hours in the morning, if he gets back at all, "unless you wanna come, mate?"

Harry informs him that no, Niall has every ability to pull on his own and doesn't need Harry there with him, plus he should really do that classwork for that class he didn't go to. Niall informs him that he is a thirty year old lady and doesn't deserve as cool of friends as Niall, and Harry agrees. He's just not the type to go partying every night. A good weekend trip to the club is one thing, but Harry cannot even fathom how Niall manages to pass his classes and work a morning job while going out and getting thoroughly pissed every night. The Irish blood is strong in this one.

They talk about homework and about the amazing parties Niall's been to in the last week, and all the girls Niall has declared undying devotion for in the last couple of weeks, and Niall spends a good amount of time chastising Harry for looking for a serious relationship at the beginning of their stay at university when it should be all about getting as many shags in a semester as humanly possible (Harry looks almost grossed out at that thought, he knows it's Niall's style but God he might as well be a prostitute and charge money for it if that's how he's gonna look at it), and how Zayn and Liam have begun to act like an old married couple after having been dating for only a year, and then go onto making a comprehensive list of the amount of alcohol Niall must have consumed since the class year started. It's a horrific amount, honestly, and Harry begins to worry that Niall will be on his third liver by the time he graduates. Or is it the kidney that's affected by alcohol? Well he's got two of those so might as well not worry about it.

An hour passes and, five minutes before the cafe officially closes, as people are slowly packing up their essays and spreadsheets and muffled conversations, a hand places a mug on the counter in front of Harry. He looks up from his iPod, where he's creating a new mix entitled "Why Mornings are Worth It" (it starts with an overwhelming amount of Adele and Hawk Nelson), and Louis doesn't acknowledge Harry as he turns and walks toward the door, but Harry notices a piece of paper stuck below the mug. He waits until the bell dings closed behind Louis and gingerly picks up the cup to unstick the scrap - a corner torn from a textbook, maybe? - from the bottom. He unfolds it and reads, "When you said you'd learn my usual, I thought you meant you'd memorize what I told you, not what I've actually been getting. I believe in the magic of baristas."

Harry doesn't know what to think of the note. So he tucks it in his back pocket to mull over later.


	2. Five

_**Five Weeks Until Christmas** _

Harry writes Louis' order on a mug first thing on Tuesday, and sticks a note to the bottom that reads "Your magical barista godmother, like a caffeinated fairy godmother". He's quite proud of it.

He gets one back at the end of the night, a torn corner of the novel he had seemed to be reading; "I don't trust fairytales. The original ones always ended in death."

Morbid, Harry thinks. He tucks the note in his back pocket anyway.

-

Thursday it's raining again. Pouring buckets and buckets and hammering against the windows. Harry personally is a fan of rain, but this is a little heavy even for his tastes, and brings back memories of running to close all the curtains in the house to block out the lighting, and hiding under the dining room table, because the tablecloth hanging low over the sides made him feel safe. Lightning cracks down and lights up the sky, flashing through the cafe, paving the way for the thunder that rolls through a few seconds later, signalling the worst of the storm is overhead. Harry pours himself his favourite comfort drink - dark hot chocolate - and tries to calm his racing heart a little. He's not scared of storms anymore, he's _not_ but they can still startle him a little.  
The door jingles, although the sound is lost in another roar of thunder, and Louis walks in. He's soaked again. His fringe sticks to his face and the textbook he brought with him today is tucked under his jumper in front of his stomach, although there's little chance it's any less soaked through than the rest of him - his jumper is thin and sticks to him in what looks like really uncomfortable ways, especially since the cotton material looks like it would only get close to properly dry if it could be removed and hung up.

Louis himself looks as affected by the weather as Harry remembers being as a kid. He's a little jerky as he walks up to the counter, his eyes are wide and they won't settle on anything as he digs, rather frantically, in his pocket for coins.

"The usual, right?" Harry says, before Louis can open his mouth. Louis stares at him for a moment like he can't comprehend what Harry's saying and then nods his head tersely, dropping the coins on the counter. Harry takes them and tries to give him a smile to assure him that it's going to be alright, and that the storm isn't one that will destroy the world. He doesn't think the smile manages to convey that much, though, and he follows it up with a "your drink will be ready in just a moment."

Louis nods again and leaves his spot in front of the counter but instead of going to find one of the large plush chairs like he usually does, he starts pacing in front of the side area of the counter waiting for his drink, not even looking at the rest of the cafe, not looking anywhere at all really except his shoes, and once in a while when the lighting flashes or the thunder rolls he jumps a little and glances outside, a pained expression almost like a hunted animal in his eyes.

Harry wonders if a coffee shop on a corner with two walls of open windows is really a good place to be for someone who is so clearly terrified of thunderstorms. He glances over at Niall, who is almost finished with whipping up the tea. Niall keeps getting distracted by Louis, and looks as concerned as Harry does for the boy, but clearly has no idea what to do about it so he does the only thing he can and finishes the drink, adding an extra spoon of sugar into it, which Harry knows Niall would absolutely love in his own tea but _maybe_ this is not exactly what Louis needs right now - a sugar rush.

Then Harry has an idea, and he thinks it's probably a dumb one since Louis has said barely three words at a time to him in person but HEY crazy storms in late fall do something to a man. So he grabs the cup from Niall just before he places it on the counter (Louis is much too preoccupied to notice at this point), and tears off the piece of paper he had taped to the bottom of the mug earlier (a joke about fairy godmothers which he had spent all yesterday coming up with and was BRILL), and instead grabs a receipt and writes "storms can't hurt you when you're surrounded by others, so take a deep breath and think of the Yorkshire countryside". He sticks it to the bottom of the cup (the tape doesn't work as well the second time), and hands it back to Niall, who gives him a skeptical look but is long past asking questions at this point it seems, and calls, a little softer than normal because he's right in front of him, "Louis."

Even though Niall spoke at a reasonable pitch (practically quiet by his standards, really), Louis jumps and whips his head up to stare at the counter for a second before realising why his name was called. He takes the mug in shaky hands and brings it to his lips to sip immediately, ignoring the scorching hot temperature of the drink. Harry watches him a little worriedly as Louis makes his way over to the armchair he normally chooses and sits down, not comfortably like he normally does, but stiffly, taking up almost no room and sitting like he's the aristocracy during the French Revolution. He watches Louis take the note off the bottom of the cup, without glancing up at Harry, and unfold and read it. He sits there a moment seemingly without reaction, his face doesn't change expression at all, and really none of his body moves - he's left staring at the note, but then he's moving, and he's jumping up and practically running up to the counter to put his barely-sipped tea down, and he runs out the door, back into the pouring rain, immediately swallowed up in the storm. 

Harry knows he must have crossed a line. He wishes he had never re-written that note. He feels Niall come up from behind him and drape an arm over his shoulder. Harry looks over and Niall gives him a look meant to ask what that was about. Harry sighs and frowns, hanging his head because he's really not sure.


	3. Four

_**Four Weeks Until Christmas** _

The little storefronts that Harry walks by on the way to the cafe on Tuesday afternoon have started to put up Christmas decorations, some more enthusiastically than others. Harry personally thinks it's much too early, he wants Christmas to start on December 1st and not a day before. He's thankful that the coffee shop decorations have been designated to be put up on Saturday, as a mandatory combined effort between all the employees. Now that's a day he's looking forward to.

When Harry walks in the doors of the cafe, Niall is already there, chatting to Eleanor and Perrie as they finish their shift. He takes the long way around to the space behind the counter where the other three are, rather than simply jumping over as Niall is known to do. Niall gives him a grin and a nod and a muffin, continuing the conversation he had been having with the girls.

"Yeah, I don't have anyone special in my life at the moment... LADIES," he waggles his eyebrows in a way that Harry hopes isn't Niall trying to be seductive. Perrie and Eleanor sort of roll their eyes in a way that shows that Niall has tried these lines with them many many times before. Oblivious, Niall continues, "Of course, Harry on the other hand seems to have found himself a man to pursue, if mine eyes don't deceive me."

Harry coughs into his muffin and finds himself choking for a moment on its banana nut goodness. Niall offers him a few strong pats on the back and the girls erupt into giggles behind their hands. After recovering a moment, Harry splutters, "What- what on earth are you going on about, Nialler? I haven't even had a date in weeks!"

Niall shoots him an extremely cheeky grin. "Don't think I haven't noticed those little notes you've been sticking to the bottom of that lad's mug whenever he shows up. You can't tell me there's nothing going on there, mate."

Harry frowns. Okay, maybe he had been flirting with Louis a little, but for Christssake he doesn't even know if the lad's bent that way! Statistically, he reasons, he probably isn't. Plus, the way he ran out on Thursday... "Nothing's going on there, Niall," he sighs, "and even if there was, I'm not sure he's even coming back now."

Perrie is watching him with the rapt attention of a combination of friendship and a need for gossip. "Oh no, what happened, Harry? It can't have been that bad, we all know you couldn't hurt a fly if you tried!"

Harry offers her a small smile, and Niall ploughs on. "Nah mate, you talking about last Thursday?" Harry nods, "That clearly wasn't you then, he was pacing like a cornered animal from the second he walked in the door."

Perrie's interest is only growing, and Eleanor looks like she's judging Harry, although she's working with very disjointed facts, and working the counter during every other moment of the conversation. 

Harry's frown turns into more of a pout. "Yeah, but he bolted right after he read the note."

"What'd it say?" Perrie prompts.

"Just, like, it was raining really hard and I wrote something about how the storm couldn't hurt him. I dunno!" he makes a frustrated noise, "he just looked so scared and I wanted to write something that would calm him down, you know? But clearly it didn't work or just made him more upset or something, and now I've crossed some weird boundary between baristas and their customers so I've definitely scared him off and lost us a customer and-"

"Harry- HARRY, breathe, babe! You're babbling again." Perrie grips him by the shoulders and motions for him to slow down, "I don't think a little encouragement note has ruined everything, babe."

"Yeah, and he had been writing notes back until yesterday," Niall adds, "don't think I didn't notice that too!"

Harry laughs a little shakily, "Er, um, sorry guys, yeah I guess I might have... might have overreacted a little there."

Eleanor rolls her eyes from her spot at the cash register. "You think? Now am I going to be doing these jobs on my own for the next six hours, or would some of you guys like to actually earn the money you're paid to be here?"

Niall scowls a little at her, and Perrie murmurs a "Be nice, El!" but Harry nods enthusiastically, ready for an out from the conversation.

"Yeah, sorry Eleanor, no problem! Let me take your spot, you can head out."

He moves to replace the spot that Eleanor vacates after she returns the credit card she had been swiping to a guy that looks a little embarrassed at having been interrupted by her complaints. She passes the mug she's written on to Niall, who takes it with a slight look of distaste but starts towards the machines anyway. Perrie and Eleanor (mostly Perrie) say their goodbyes and make their exit, leaving Harry and Niall to officially start their shift.

-

Letting his feelings out to his coworkers (more importantly, FRIENDS) takes a weight off of Harry's shoulders that he hadn't known was there. He feels lighter as he gives a heartfelt welcome to the first customer through the door. He's bending down, looking below the counter trying to find where Eleanor has stashed the marker (it's starting to occur to him that she does this on purpose) and he offers up in a singsong voice that "I'll be with you in just a moment!"

"U-um"

Harry's head snaps up. He recognises the voice instantly, of course he does, and all he can think to say is, "You're early."

Louis shifts uncomfortably in front of him, biting his lip, his eyes not meeting Harry's. _Fuck_ , Harry thinks, _What the fuck was that? There's that creepy stalking thing I have going again. And he actually showed up!_ Harry realises, which makes him feel a little better until he remembers that creepy stalker comments like that tend to SCARE PEOPLE and maybe NOW he's fucked it up and oh fuck-

"I'm sorry!"

Oh, that's not what Harry had been expecting Louis to say. What?

Louis takes a deep breath and continues; he looks uncertain but he's speaking doubly fast to make up for it. "I'm sorry, I was acting really weird yesterday and then I just ran and I realised that probably looked shady as fuck, and then I realised it probably looked like I ran out because I read your note or something and I swear that's not it but now I'm realising that maybe you didn't actually notice that or I'm making a bigger deal about it than it is so actually please forget I said anything because I really like this cafe and I don't want to have to find another one because of all the embarrassment I'm causing myself right now."

Harry's eyes are wide and he fish mouths for a minute before managing to grab ahold of coherent thoughts and stutter out, "No, no don't be ridiculous! I, um, well I did notice but I totally get it and I'm sure there was some sort of rational explanation, like you realised you left the oven on and your house was gonna burn down. Or you're a superhero and you could sense a kitten drowning in the storm or something, yeah..." he trails off and Louis is giving him a frown with an emotion that he can't quite read.

"I really can't tell if you're making fun of me or not."

Harry's eyes grow impossibly wide as he loses the power of speech once again, to his own extreme humiliation.

"Nah mate, it may seem like he's being a twat, but Harry here doesn't have a mean bone in his body." Niall has come up behind Harry and thrown an arm over his shoulder. "Honestly, if you told him you were a superhero kitten saver, he'd immediately become your number one fan. Get a t-shirt made and everything."

Harry whines and tries to shrug the arm off his shoulder. "Niiiiiall..."

At least the frown is gone from Louis' face now.

Niall cackles at Harry's discomfort. "Haaaaarry. Go take an early break and let me handle the counter for a while. Make this man his tea." He all but pushes Harry off his stool and then tosses a mug at him, which Harry fumbles and promptly drops. He scowls as Niall cackles and throws another one, which Harry juggles a moment before he manages to keep proper hold of it.

"Uh, yeah, your tea, I'll just, yeah." He's a little afraid to look Louis in the face again but when he does he's pleased to find that Louis is biting back a laugh, a smile on his face bigger than Harry has yet seen occupy that little space.

"Yeah, I'll just - uh - wait over here."

Harry's more than a little self conscious making the tea, aware that Louis is just on the other side of the counter and watching his work.

When he finally sets the mug down on the counter in front of Louis (not bothering to call his name of course, he is LITERALLY a foot away), he tries to make conversation that won't end in embarrassment.

"Didn't have the time to stick a note to the bottom, sorry about that..."

Louis laughs, a soft feathery sound that Harry very much appreciates, the mug pressed to his face and breathing in the steam. "Well, my fault really. You were right, I AM here an hour earlier than normal. I, uh, really felt the need to get that off my chest."

Harry thinks he may be blushing. Had Louis really felt that badly about it? He glances over at Niall, who is taking the order of a girl dressed much lighter than the weather outside suggests appropriate. There's not a long line of customers and he seems to be handling having to tackle both jobs and well, when Niall notices his look he waves him off, so Harry leans his forearms on the counter. He'll make it up to Niall later.

"I hope you didn't drop anything important just for that?" It’s a searching question, Harry knows absolutely nothing about Louis, and figures this is as good a chance as he'll ever have to change that.

Louis shakes his head, not making any effort to find somewhere to sit down. "Wouldn't be a real Uni experience if I didn't skip class every once in a while, would it?"

Harry laughs, "I'd be inclined to scold you, but I did the same thing a few weeks ago."

"What, skipped class to apologise?"

"Not exactly, but I did skip class to spend all morning in the cafe making fun of Zayn and Liam for not being morning people."

"Sounds like just as important of an endeavor, then."

They grin at each other over the counter for a moment, and then Louis frowns. "I think I'm stealing."

Harry mimics his look. "You- what?"

Louis motions to the mug in his hand. "I didn't actually pay for this."

After a beat of recognition, Harry sniggers. Before he can answer, Niall jumps up next to them, placing a steaming latte on the counter with a call of "Marcelin!" and turns to Louis, "Don't worry about it, mate. It's coming out of Harry's pay."

Harry laughs harder and has to stop Louis from reaching for the coins in his pocket with a look of guilt on his face. "No really, don't worry about it. We've misplaced more than the fifty p from a cuppa before, I don't think Greg'll dock me for that." He turns his head when he hears the bell above the door chime and a group of students walk in. "Might dock me for not working at all, though-"

"Doubtful!" Niall interrupts from the register.

"-So I should probably get back to work before Niall's Irish charm scares away all our good customers."

"Yeah, 'course!" Louis agrees, "And, um, thanks... for not thinking I'm crazy. Or at least not voicing it."

Harry nods emphatically. "S'long as you don't think I'm crazy for sticking notes about fairy baristas to the bottom of your cups, I don't think I'm one to judge."

Louis laughs softly into his cup as he turns away. "Seemed like the most normal thing in the world to me."

-

When Harry takes his rightful spot back at the register, giving an enthusiastic greeting to the next customer in line and avoiding a smack on the arm by Niall, he notices Louis moving not toward his usual plush seat by the window, but one of the smaller tables close to the register. He's got his back to Harry - facing toward the windows still, but Harry feels warm happiness bubble in his stomach. 

At six he wordlessly replaces the empty mug sat next to Louis' textbook with a full one. The note stuck to the bottom reads "You'll get heart problems with this much caffeine"

At seven fifty five Louis returns the mug with a smile, eyes on the floor again, and when he leaves Harry unfolds the note to find a scrawled "I saw your friend down six espresso shots, I'm not who you should be worried about".

-

It rains again on Thursday. Harry's starting to feel quite disgusted with it, really. Sure, it's England and this is what England is known for, but he dreams of snowy skies to match the decorations still popping up on the buildings around their little cafe. It's depressing watching water wash down the colourful lights and soak the wreaths.

This morning he had run from class to class through the on-and-off drizzle. His umbrella is one of the ones that folds up small enough to fit in his rucksack so it's honestly not the best; a little flimsy and a little small, and he's tall enough that his lower legs get soaked no matter what. After class he's got hours to fill before his shift starts, but he doesn't want to go anywhere that'll get his lower half more soaked than it already is, since the rain is still coming down steadily, so he makes the decision to take the quick walk from class back to his flat.

Up three flights of stairs and unlocking the door, Harry is confronted with the picture of Niall, fast asleep on the couch in their tiny living room. Harry tries to remember if Niall even bothered to wake up this morning. He smiles fondly - how does Niall even pass classes? - and goes to their little kitchenette, feeling the smell of toasties will wake the Irishman from his slumber.

The aroma of bacon and melty cheese is soon filling the room, and Harry's prediction proves right as the shuffle of Niall's footsteps make themselves known. Then he's got a body wrapped around his from behind and a sleepy plea of "feed me."

"Did you go to class today?"

"Fuck you. Feed me."

Harry laughs and shrugs Niall off him. "Fine. You know I hate bacon anyway, it's much too greasy. Grab me the turkey from the fridge and this one's yours."

Niall pulls a face as he grabs the package from the fridge. "This stuff is gross, bro. Dunno how you can stand it."

"Don't think of it as a bacon substitute. Think of it as the most delicious form of turkey."

Niall shakes his head but doesn't continue the argument. Harry knows they've had this argument enough that Niall has given up on trying to change his mind. Harry doesn't care. Turkey bacon is delicious.

He flips two piping hot sandwiches onto a plate and hands them to Niall, who settles onto the tile floor to eat. This is why Harry regularly cleans their kitchen floor; he's pretty sure Niall couldn't be arsed to care but insists on sitting on the floor even when they have a perfectly good table. He dances around the boy at his feet as he makes his own toasties, and then flops down across from Niall to eat.

"Class was canceled today." Niall says between bites.

"No it wasn't."

"Okay. No it wasn't."

Harry grins, licking cheese from his fingers. "Who goes out clubbing on a Wednesday night?"

"Well those of us who don't have a person we're pining for want a little action too."

"Pining?" Harry interrupts. "M'not pining. Why would I be pining? That's a horrible word anyway." a beat. "I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Well, you know he's not homophobic, since he's been getting coffee from Liam and Zayn and you know what they're like. Plus, he's returned all those dumb notes, right? I'm sure you write really dorky things on there, he's gotta at least like you to not have been scared off yet."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Hate to break it to you, Nialler, but I don't even know his last name. We wrote a couple ridiculous notes to each other, that doesn't exactly make us pining lovers, as you seem to think."

He allows himself to think for a moment of blue eyes and soft smiles, before he shakes himself. 'Not gone for him,' he thinks, Sure, Louis is nothing if not attractive, and nice enough to respond to quirky notes, which is a plus, and honestly that night last week, every nerve in Harry's body seemed to be screaming at him to go envelop Louis in a hug, to cocoon him in a feeling of safety and assure him that everything was going to be all right, even though he had no clue what was wrong- 

'Not gone for him. Right.'

"Yer in denial, mate." Niall tells him.

"We're nowhere near Egypt." is Harry's reply. Niall rolls his eyes but Harry personally thinks that was hilarious.

-

It's still raining when they leave the flat for work. Still a miserable day. Harry doesn't blame Niall for trying to have slept through it.

Their shoes splash through muddy puddles and soon soak through. Harry wonders at the fact that even after living in this horribly raining country all his life he still doesn't own waterproof shoes. It drizzles around them as their umbrellas knock against one another. Harry listens in a contented silence as Niall rattles on about some great golf match that has recently happened (match? game? Harry knows nothing about the sport but that has never stopped Niall before).

They relieve Eleanor and Perrie of their posts (Perrie wishes him good luck, having already insisted on being filled in on all happenings from Tuesday when she came in for lunch shift on Wednesday, and Harry wishes sometimes that he doesn't have quite _such_ supportive friends). Harry toes off his shoes and sopping wet socks, it's not like customers are able to see his feet anyway, and Niall does the same, leaving them in a pike in the corner under their dripping umbrellas.

Almost out of habit now, Harry grabs a mug after he's seated at the register and scrawls Louis' order down the side. He tapes a note to the bottom ("did you know rabbits are an invasive species in Australia? They built a fence across the whole continent to try to keep them out.") and places the mug back with the others in wait for Louis to arrive.

-

The bells chime to announce his presence at the usual time, and Harry looks up to see Louis join a (surprisingly long) line of customers waiting for Harry to take their order. He still doesn't have an umbrella, Harry wonders if he doesn't own one or doesn't care about the weather but his clothes are still so thin and clearly once again soaked through. Harry takes order after order for hot drinks, well caffeinated and mostly for Uni students revising for their end of term papers and tests. No one enters behind Louis in line though, so when he gets up to the front of the counter Harry just hands Niall the mug he's already written in and breathes a sigh of relief. Another person around the cafe to help out really wouldn't be such a bad thing during finals week.

"Fifty P?" Louis asks.

Harry shakes his head. "On the house."

Louis frowns. "I know it looks like I just took a swim through the Thames but I'm not actually homeless, I can pay for it."

Harry is a little afraid that he's offended Louis but he's also sort of a fan of the way his accent comes out a little thicker. "We don't give free drinks to homeless people, either. Just once in a while to our favourite customers."

Louis pouts. "Well ya should tell me stuff like that before I order, maybe I want to order something much more expensive while I have the chance."

"That'll get you kicked off the list of favourite customers right away though, changing your usual. I don't know how you expect baristas to cope with a shock like that."

Louis smiles then, and Harry feels like there are mice in his stomach, which is just not fair because he barely knows the boy, he doesn't want to get all dumb and emotional over someone whose major he doesn't even know. 

"What's your major?" 

If Louis is confused by the quick change of topic, he doesn't show it. "Childhood development. Hoping to be a primary school teacher someday."

There's nobody behind him in line still so Harry feels no guilt for trying to steal Louis' time for a bit longer. "That's cool! You have younger siblings?"

Louis' face darkens a little for a quarter of a second but then he's all smiles and crinkly eyes, "Four, actually, all sisters. Youngest two are twins but if you ever get them confused they'll hold that grudge against you for a month."

Harry laughs, "I'm sure that's something that you never would have done, though."

"Well, never on accident," Louis has light in his eyes and Harry wants him to keep talking like this forever, to continue to see this happiness play out, "I like to call them by the wrong names when they're trying to blame the other for something they didn't do. They get so confused trying to figure out whether to argue their innocence or argue about the name I'm calling them."

Harry's laughing now and Louis' holding in giggles and Niall interrupts them with a hot beverage placed between them with Louis' name on it. Louis takes it and holds it up to his face with a look of pure bliss as he breathes in the scent. "I should go claim a seat." he says.

Harry nods. "I suggest the far corner where the heating vents are. Your clothes will dry faster."

"Good thinking," Louis nods back in assent, and with another smile he makes his way over to the side of the cafe where there are a row of coil heaters giving the room warmth. Harry wishes he had a towel or something to give Louis. Or an extra jumper, but that would probably cross that invisible line that is talked about in the barista code. The super secret barista code that tells exactly how to make lattes that taste like the heavens and understand what people are talking about when they mention 'that one drink with the foam and the caramel and stuff". That code.

(Harry actually has no idea what they're talking about. He gives them a drink at random usually because anything done with confidence normally isn't questioned.)

Louis sits by the coil heaters with a book in his lap that he seems to have once again pulled out from beneath his shirt (it's as soaking wet as the rest of him, pages sticking together from water damage). Harry serves customers for the next hour or so before sneaking in another tea to go set by Louis, with more facts about invasive species in Australia (blame his history class last term for that). Louis looks up from his textbook long enough to smile at Harry and take the new mug with the warmth it has to offer. When Harry makes it back behind the counter, he unfolds the note from the bottom of the old mug, which reads 'Vicious killers they are. Australians could survive the apocalypse but clearly their downfall will be the bunnies.'

The rain doesn't let up as the night starts to close in around them, and Harry feels a little forlorn about the idea that Louis will inevitably be going back out into the dark of the night in his barely dry clothes. He wonders if maybe he can find a spare umbrella in the back somewhere from the lost and found box to give to him (negative; the lost and found box holds only a number of left shoes and a bra which Harry avoids touching). At 7:45, ten minutes before Harry knows Louis normally leaves, he makes what could be a stupid decision. It's certainly an impromptu decision. He grabs his own umbrella from the back of the counter area, where it's been sitting unfolded in order to dry, folds it up as small as it goes, and sticks it in one of the cafe's coffee mugs. It fits fairly well, the end of the handle only sticking a little above the top. 

He thinks he'll chicken out so he doesn't hesitate in his movements, to get it over with. He walks over to Louis, still folded into the plush chair he claimed hours ago, and sets the cup on the small table beside him, not making eye contact, before scuttling back to his perch. He doesn't dare look over where Louis is sitting. He's afraid he's crossed that invisible line but it's too late to take it back. Keep eyes on the counter. Eyes on the counter. Don't look at Louis.

He looks at Louis.

Louis is looking at him already. He looks a little speechless maybe, which Harry thinks could be worse; his eyes are big and he's blushing up to his ears. Seeing Harry looking back at him, Louis stands up and makes his way over.

"I can't take this."

"Yes you can."

Louis shakes his head vehemently. "The free drinks are one thing, I can't just take your umbrella. You can't claim this one as being a special for regulars."

"No, I can claim this one is a special for friends."

He doesn't know where that came from, but okay Louis seems like a friend and he really needs something to help him not catch hypothermia so Harry feels completely justified.

"I'll- I'll return it next time I'm here. I'm not keeping it."

"Only if it's not raining."

"Even if it's raining."

"I'm getting you another one if you try to return it."

"I- What- No. Wait. What?"

"You're short. You'll drown in the rain out there. I don't want to lose the business of one of our regulars."

Humour helps. Louis seems less likely to refuse and more likely to refute the short comment. "I'm not that much shorter than you are."

"But you admit I'm taller! Much less likely to drown. Take it."

"I- Fine." Louis huffs a frustrated sigh. "But I am returning it if it isn't raining tomorrow. And I'm not short."

Harry smiles wide. "Of course you're not. I'm sure you're perfectly tall. At least, when you get your teaching job and surround yourself with tiny primary school kids you will be."

Louis scowls. "You're a menace."

"I know."

"Returning it tomorrow."

"Good luck. I'm not here tomorrow."

"Shit. Returning it Tuesday."

"Mhmm."


	4. Three

_  
**Three Weeks Until Christmas**  
_

The decorations are beautiful. Stunning. Harry should know, he was one of the ones spending hours putting them up. They had started Saturday afternoon, working around their customers (and annoying most of them, probably, with their constant chatter), switching off who worked behind the counter and who stood on stools hanging fairy lights across the walls. It was a masterpiece in the making. The outside is covered in dangly lights and glittery plastic snowflakes stuck unceremoniously over all possible surfaces. There are little ornaments visible through all the windows and a large wreath adorns the door (it only fell down the first seven times Niall practiced slamming the door. Only three of the ornaments nestled in the greenery ended up smashed). 

Inside is a Christmas wonderland. Garlands loop around the every wall and white lights thread through them. Coloured lights circle around the counter several time; sometimes they blink and sometimes they don't (it was Liam's job to make sure they didn't blink, but somehow he seems to have managed to set a timer for them on accident, and no one is sure how to turn it off). All the chairs have large red bows tied on them, and even the tiniest of tables have small snowman or snowflake centerpieces. There's a large tree in the corner that has the most windows with a shocking number of ornaments crammed onto it (except for the top third of the tree, sparse because the only person who remembered to decorate that high up was Zayn, who worked to make it look artful and not a mess like the rest of it). There's fake snow lining the corners of the room, covered in glitter as was Perrie's idea (the glitter is actually everywhere at this point, but Perrie states that she regrets nothing).

In all, the coffee shop looks like Christmas vommed all over it, and most of them spent the night celebrating their hard work by drinking the beers offered up by Niall after closing time until about two in the morning. Harry's outfit today is completed by a wonderfully festive Christmas vest with small elves holding up Christmas lights which light up and sparkle. He's proud. It's the Christmas season! Might as well enjoy the festivities while he can.

He's also been sneaking peppermint sticks into people's drinks, as an added bonus that customers may or may not actually want. 

It's not raining today (Harry wishes it would snow but the air outside is petulantly warm), so no one is dripping water over their Christmas decorations. It means that likely Louis will be returning that umbrella he borrowed last week. Harry had been wishing it would still be raining, because he thinks Louis really needs that umbrella and maybe a couple more rainy days and he would forget that it's not actually his.

Or maybe he's already forgotten? Louis walks through the door with nothing in his arms but his usual textbooks.

He stands awkwardly at the door as Harry takes orders, not joining the line of customers but not taking a seat either. Harry tries to catch his eye, see what he's thinking, just offer a greeting, but Louis is determinably staring at his shoes.

He stays there for another ten minutes (ten minutes that Harry finds extremely hard to concentrate on taking orders) until the line that had formed is completely dispensed.

Louis rushes up to the counter the second everyone is gone, and before Harry can get out a greeting he blurts, "I'm so sorry!"

Taken aback and not at all sure what he's talking about, Harry replies with a completely intelligent, "What?"

Louis looks like he's about to cry now, and Harry quickly amends, "I mean, it's okay? I forgive you? Please stop looking like you've drowned my puppy. Just tell me what happened, okay?" As he's speaking he pushes the cup he always has prepared for Louis into Niall's side discretely until he takes it; clearly Louis needs tea.

Louis takes a deep breath and with wide scared eyes whispers, "I broke your umbrella. But I can buy you a new one, I swear! I just need-"

"No, Lou, calm down," Harry interrupts. He's trying not to laugh now because, really? This is what Louis was so worried about? "It's just an umbrella, really! My mum forces me to take another one home with me every time I visit her anyway."

Louis doesn't look very assuaged. Niall places the mug of tea between the two of them and Harry gently pushes it into Louis' hands, who holds it in shaky fingers.

Harry motions behind him, "Plus, people leave them here all the time. We accumulate them in the Lost and Found box at an alarming rate."

Most of those tend to be broken, but Louis doesn't need to know that.

Louis still doesn't look happy about it. "But still - I can't just -" He lets out a deep breath. "I'll buy you a new one soon, I swear."

Harry checks that Niall is still covering for him (he'll have to make him a stack of toasties at home in return). "Listen, if you really feel the need to buy me a new umbrella, I can't stop you. But know that you'll be getting your drinks free for the next two months."

"He'll do it," Niall whispers conspiratorially, popping up between them and calling out for "Azoff!" with a plain black coffee. "One time I accidentally obliterated his favourite shot glass in the garbage disposal. He still won't let me replace it." He shakes his head sadly as if Harry is a lost cause as he goes back to the register.

Harry shrugs. "He was drunk out of his mind. If I had to replace everything I broke while drunk I would be more in debt than an American college student."

Louis looks at Harry like he’s insane. “Are you some sort of saint? I don’t think I would have any stuff left if I let my sisters get away with it every time they stole or broke my things.”

Harry laughs, “Well as I only have an older sister and she always thought her little brother’s stuff was _icky_ , I don’t think I ever learned the way you did.” 

The line of customers coming in the door is starting to pick up again, and as much as Harry would like to continue to assure Louis that one umbrella is not the end of the world, he know that Niall won’t be able to cover for him much longer. “Look, how about this.” he suggests. “Do you still have the broken umbrella?”

Louis nods.

“Well I’m pretty good with fixing things. Why don’t you bring it on Thursday? I can patch tears pretty easily, I learned that from my mum, and the metal bits probably only need some tape or a bit of a splint, right? It couldn’t be that bad.”

Louis’ eyes are wide. “You have no idea,” he says under his breath. “I can bring it if you really want but it’s, um, the problem isn’t any of that. It’s a lot worse. You’d really be better off with me just buying you a new one-”

Harry waves the thought away. “Nah, I want to see now how you’ve managed to destroy this umbrella so completely. I thoroughly believe it couldn’t be that bad.” He looks back at Niall, “Now unfortunately, I’ve overstayed this break. And you should drink that tea before it gets cold.”

He doesn’t really give Louis a chance to say goodbye, because Niall is giving him desperate pleading eyes (some customers are just too rude), but when he looks back from his post a minute later Louis is sitting in one of the plush chairs near the window with a textbook in his lap. 

_Damn,_ Harry thinks. _I forgot to ask him if he loved the decorations._

-

Belatedly, Harry realises that he never stuck a note on the bottom of Louis’ cup of tea, which he fixes when he drops off a second cup a good later.

 _’What do you think of the decorations? We worked so hard on them!’_

It’s not until the end of the night when he picks up the empty mug that he gets a note back.

_’I’ve never seen a room so horrendously Christmas-y in my life. I feel like an army of Christmas elves gave their lives for this room. Good job.’_

The note brightens up his night considerably, because it seems pretty clear that Louis isn’t still dwelling over the umbrella incident.

He wonders when it was he began to care so much for a boy he serves tea to twice a week.

-

Thursday a light drizzle mists across the pavement outside.

Harry had spent a good amount of time on Wednesday trying to figure out just what Louis could have done to his umbrella that would put it in such bad shape, and so far he has come up with absolutely nothing. Nothing realistic, at least. Maybe he used it to fend off attackers? Perhaps it was blown into the street and a car ran it over. Did a neighborhood dog pick a fight with it? 

It’s clearly a mystery, and one that Louis doesn’t seem too willing to divulge.

So when Louis walks into the cafe on Thursday, hair damp from the outside drizzle but not horribly soaked overall, Harry is extremely confused to see his plain black umbrella folded up in Louis’ grasp. It looks absolutely, well, normal. It’s not bent in any odd positions, there’s no tears that Harry can see; it looks to be a perfectly normal umbrella.

Louis gets to the counter and pulls a few coins out of his pocket.

“Let me guess, the usual?” Harry asks playfully, already having given the cup to Niall.

Louis ducks his head in a nod. “I, um, I brought back the umbrella. I really don’t think you’ll want it though.” He places it on the counter between them despite his warnings.

It still looks perfectly normal to Harry.

“It… looks perfectly normal?”

Louis shakes his head. “Before you say that, you should probably open it. But not -” he hastens, “Not over yourself. Over a bin, probably.”

Harry starts giving the umbrella concerned glances. He stores the change in the register before gingerly picking it up. “Is there a wild animal in there? Will I get rabies if it bites me?”

“N-no, of course not! Why would I-”

“No reason, please take a breath, I was joking, sorry,” Harry is quick to assure. He walks over to the side where there’s enough space that he’s not likely to knock over any of the machines. He pushes the button that pops the umbrella open and after shaking it out a moment (the button does tend to stick), it pops open in front of him.

And absolutely explodes glitter all over him.

Harry coughs, not all too sure that there isn’t some sparkle now lodged in his throat. He looks over at Louis, who is looking at him in utter horror, and back at the umbrella.

While the outside of the umbrella is plain black, just like it had been when he loaned it out, the inside of the umbrella seems to have been entirely covered in a layer of bubblegum pink paint.

It’s flaking off from the parts that were folded when the umbrella closed, but other than that it’s rather a masterpiece. The entire underside of the umbrella is a bubblegum pink, and scattered throughout seem to be glued-on sequins and fake gems of varying bright colours. To add to that is glitter glue, or at least glitter that has _been_ glued coating the entire surface in swirls and hearts. 

On the one hand, Harry thinks it's adorable. It looks like the sort of arts and crafts project that his sister would have made when she was little (or in early secondary). On the other hand, though, he's not sure why Louis did this to his umbrella, and he's honestly drawing a blank. Was it a jab at how clearly gay he acts, that Louis just chickened out too much to straight out give him? He'd guess maybe Louis grabbed the wrong umbrella, but this one does have his signature H at the bottom of the handle.

Maybe he and Louis weren't getting along as well as he thought they were? But it seems, in the back of his mind, like he's jumping to conclusions. He clings to that, the knowledge that he has no clue what's going on.

Turning to Louis, it looks like the boy is ready to make a run for it. "So I guess you were right," Harry says, choosing his words slowly. "I don't think I can fix this that easily." He closes it again and gets another sparkly shower of glitter.

"I'm so sorry," Louis mumbles, staring resolutely at the countertop. "I'll buy you a new one. And then disappear forever. This wasn't supposed to happen, I swear, they grabbed the wrong one and -"

"Wait-" Harry interrupts. "They who?"

"My, um, my little sisters. They do this to - to most of the umbrellas I own, 's why I never have one, so-"

"Are you telling me," Harry shakes the closed umbrella and watches more glitter flutter out, "That I have an umbrella uniquely designed by your little sisters?"

Louis finally meets Harry's eye. "Um, I suppose so. I can take it back so-"

"Why would you take it back?" Harry asks. He finally has a grasp on the situation. He's got this. "As far as I can see it, I've gotten a one of a kind umbrella design in my favourite colour." He gives Louis a broad smile.

Louis frowns. "Are you - are you making fun of me?"

"I swear I'm not," Harry is quick to assure. "I'm being completely serious. Ask Niall, pink is definitely my favourite colour."

Harry looks to Niall, who nods from his spot at the register.

"Look," Harry says. "You said this was an accident, right?"

Louis nods.

"And I was more than willing to completely replace my missing umbrella. As far as I'm concerned, this is all a nice surprise. Please don't disappear."

Louis takes a long drink of his tea. "My youngest sisters are twins," he says quietly, "They like to cheer me up when I'm having a bad day, but they don't always have the best idea of how to do it. Large portions of my room are pastel and sparkly."

"Sounds like they care about you a lot," Harry says. "You said they do this to all your umbrellas?"

Louis nods. "I really tried to hide it. They wanted to surprise me though."

"Well they surprised _me_ ," Harry says. "But if it's all the same to you I'm going to keep it."

"Yeah 'course, it’s your umbrella," Louis is quick to agree. "As long as you're serious about not making fun of me."

"As long as you're not making fun of _me_ ," Harry shoots back.

"What?" Louis looks confused now. "Why would I be making fun of you?"

"Well I just, when I saw the colour I assumed it was a remark about my sexuality." Its his turn to blush and avoid Louis' gaze now. Being gay isn't something he's felt the need to be ashamed of in years, but coming out to a boy he's maybe probably fancies is still nerve wracking.

"Oh," is all Louis says for a moment."Well it would be a little hypocritical of me to do that."

"Oh," Harry says. That's nice to know.

"Yeah," says Louis. He takes another drink of tea, a small smile on his face now.

They stand in silence for a minute, and it's finally not awkward between them. Harry is delighted to find that Louis no longer has the look of a scared animal.

A sharp jab to the side makes Harry let out a squeak and jumps to face Niall. Niall shrugs and goes back to the drink machines, but it suddenly occurs to Harry that he is in the middle of a shift.

"I, um, I have to get back to work probably," Harry says, pointing vaguely in the direction of the register.

"Right, of course," Louis picks up his drink and steps back from the counter. "I'll just be - I'll be sitting in a chair. Like people do at coffee shops."

Harry giggles. "Yeah, good. You do that."

-

Louis waves a small goodbye at the end of the night. When Harry comes around to pick up his mug, he automatically checks for the note on the bottom.

_'You should have seen the day the twins decorated the ceiling fan. Glitter doesn't stay on well once the fan is turned on.'_


	5. Two

**_Two Weeks Until Christmas_ **

It’s finals week and everything is a mess.

By that, Harry means that he has four classes to study for, no time to do it in, and everywhere (absolutely _everywhere_ ) is packed. There are more students on campus than he thinks should even legally be allowed. Where did they all come from? Surely all these people don’t actually go to university here, they wouldn’t _fit_. It’s clear by their frantic looks that quite a few of them have never attended the classes they’re studying for.

The university’s library is packed to capacity, students are taking up spots on the floor and in the bookstacks (a safety issue really) because of the absolute lack of seating.

The coffee shop isn’t any better. 

Normally it’s a nice mixture of student regulars who come in to study for a solid half hour between or after classes, people who wander in only to get a drink to go, and business people who have professional important things to do that take up space.

This week is utter chaos. The coffee shop is almost as bad as the library, every possible seat filled and students everywhere deeply absorbed in their textbooks and term papers. That, or pretending to be deeply absorbed while scrolling through Buzzfeed on their phones. Why do they even come here? Their parents aren’t here to judge them, why even try putting up a front?

Anyway, it’s ridiculous. Also, quite a few people are becoming grouchy about the Christmas decorations that were so meticulously put up. Apparently they’re getting in the way, and getting glitter in people’s textbooks.

People can suck it, Harry thinks. He’s about ready to shove some good old fashioned Christmas cheer down their throats.

That’s probably just the finals stress talking though.

He’s got his history textbook on his lap as he takes orders, sneaking glances at it every chance he gets. Niall, making the drinks, is oblivious as always. Does he even plan on passing his classes? Harry doesn’t have the slightest clue, but he’s definitely sneaking a look at his grades when they come in.

It feels like a breath of fresh air when Louis comes in. It’s not raining for once, and he has a few textbooks cradled under his arms. Harry sees his face fall, however, when he notices just how crammed the coffee shop is. 

“Hey,” Louis greets, placing his stack of textbooks on their counter between them when he reaches the register. “I guess there’s really nowhere to sit today, huh?” 

Harry shakes his head, “All these good for nothings seem to think they can memorise a full term’s worth of notes in the span of three days.” He’s never been good at speaking softly and the remark earns him more than a few glares from the nearest customers.

Louis laughs softly though, so it’s worth it. “I suppose… I should get a drink to go then. Do you even do that?”

Having already handed his pre-written mug to Niall when Louis walked in the door, Harry pouts. “Well you can’t now,” he objects, “Your drink’s already half done!”

It’s tea. It’s hot water and a tea bag. Literally owning the tea bag means the drink is already half done.

Louis takes another look around the room. “I guess I could squeeze myself in on the windowsill over there,” he says. The windowsill barely counts as a bay window, but there’s already two students and their papers stretched across it.

Niall jumps between them, handing Louis his drink. “Nah mate, you’re Harry’s favourite at this point, you get to sit in the space of honour.” 

He sends a not so subtle wink to Harry, who has absolutely no idea what Niall’s talking about. “What space of honour would that be?” he asks, as confused as Louis looks.

“Back here of course!” Niall motions to the space behind the counter that the two of them are taking up. “Just grab some hoodies from the lost and found and make yourself at home! That’s what we always do, it’s quite comfy.”

Louis doesn’t look so sure. “I feel like I’m not supposed to be back there. Won’t your boss be mad?”

Harry shakes his head. Anything to make Louis stick around sounds like a good idea to him, and Niall is clearly throwing him a bone. “Course not!” he says, “Niall’s dad owns the place, so whatever Niall says goes. We do have some very comfortable clothes in the lost and found. That is, if you’re interested…” He sends an intensely hopeful look in Louis’ direction, hoping it doesn’t come across as desperate as he feels it does.

Louis takes another look at the filled coffee shop, and then back at the space Niall motioned to. “Well, if I wouldn’t be a bother…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, here I’ll grab the best stuff we’ve got from the lost and found.” Harry steps into the back room while Louis walks around the counter. He comes back out with his arms filled with various types of clothing. “Most of these have been here for months if not years,” he says. “Nobody’s coming back for them at this point, I’m pretty sure.”

He puts them in a pile not too far from his perch at the register. Louis carefully lowers himself onto them, tea in hand, and makes himself comfortable. “Poor things,” he says, “Probably feel all neglected by their owners.”

He’s talking about the clothes, that’s too adorable.

“Well it’s a good thing we’re making them feel useful,” Harry says. “Niall even gave them a wash once, although he overloaded the machine and they came out smelling kind of burnt.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Louis says. “I’m sure they appreciated the effort.”

Harry is momentarily distracted by a customer coming in, and has to spend a few minutes doing his actual job. When she leaves with an iced coffee (christ, it’s the middle of winter what’s wrong with her), he looks down to find Louis deeply engrossed in what looks like physics.

Well, he is probably here because he needs to study. Harry leaves him to it and looks back to his own textbook, skimming over information on the workhouse era and subsequent generation of misplaced families.

Niall, being the only one without a textbook, gets bored when there’s a lull in customers and starts making the most disgusting combinations of drinks he can manage. Harry humors him and takes sips of each one before declaring that they’re absolutely terrible, He tries to hand one to Louis, who says there’s a reason he only ever drinks tea; anything involving coffee is a horrible abomination and should be buried.

Niall keeps making the drinks, but he moves from taste experimentation to color experimentation; trying to make the most ugly drink imaginable.

It’s the nicest day Harry’s had at work in a while. He gets refills on tea for Louis a couple times, exchanging small talk about their finals (Louis is confident he’s going to ace all his childhood development classes, but the science class he’s in makes absolutely no sense to him) and what classes they’ve signed up for next term (Harry still isn’t sure why a Zoology class is a prerequisite for his major).

When it comes late enough that the last people trickle out, Harry convinces Louis to sit and relax where he’s been while Niall and he clean the store. They say goodbye half an hour later, going off in opposite directions down the pavement.

He doesn’t have a new note to bring home, but he’s got a day of small talk with Louis instead so it was pretty worth it.

-

Thursday is much the same as Tuesday, only there’s a light drizzle outside once again.

 _Why_ , Harry thinks regretfully to himself, _why can’t it ever be snow?_

Maybe in January.

But, whatever the weather outside, the cafe inside is still full of Christmas cheer. The decorations may be a little worse for wear at this point, what with the high traffic from finals week (which is starting, ever so slightly, to slow), but decorations are decorations and they’ve only managed to break four of the ornaments on the tree so Harry thinks it’s going pretty well.

Louis walks in at the usual time, he gets his usual drink, and Harry motions to the spot behind the counter next to him, which Louis hesitates only a little before taking.

It’s all very much the usual, and Harry loves it.

He also hopes Louis doesn’t notice that now that finals week has more than halfway over, there are actually a few empty chairs in the room. It’s more fun to have him behind the counter anyway.

“What are you studying today?” Louis asks, opening a notebook with horrible penmanship scrawled across the pages.

“I’m not, actually,” Harry says. “I’ve just finished my last exam this morning. Had them all early this year.”

“Lucky,” Louis mutters, frowning down at his notes, “Almost all of mine are on the very last day. I’ll have just enough time to walk between the buildings.” He glances up at Harry, “Aren’t you going home for the break, then? What’re you still doing here?”

“Well if I weren’t here then who would make your drinks?” Harry jokes (“I’m still here ya know,” Niall calls from the other side of the room). “But anyway, my mum is going to visit my sister for the beginning of break, she’s doing an internship in America, see, and so I don’t see much point in going home to an empty house.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his peppermint hot chocolate. “It means I’ll get away with getting Gemma a discount present from the store right after Christmas ends and sending it as if I had it all along.”

“Cheapskate!” Niall calls.

“You really don’t mind your mum going without you?” Louis asks.

“I mean, I’m a little sad because we’re missing all of our traditions, but she promises that we’ll do them a week later when she gets back and pretend it’s still Christmas Eve, so I suppose it’ll work.” It’s not his favourite way to spend a holiday, alone in his flat, but he just didn’t have the money for a ticket this time around. “Plus, I get to be with Niall that much longer.” He draws Niall into a forced hug, which Niall resists wholeheartedly.

“You wish, mate,” he grumbles. “I’m leaving in less than a week for Mullingar. Got me a baby brother to visit!”

“Alright, I’ve got a little less than a week to be with Niall, and he’s very ungrateful. Which means I’m not making him any more cheese toasties.”

Niall looks devastated and spends a good five minutes begging his way back into Harry’s good graces. Louis goes back to rewriting his notes in a legible fashion. The conversation is put aside for the night as he struggles through months of material he’s supposed to remember.

When they all leave that night, Harry waves goodbye and barely gets a response from Louis, whose face is buried in his textbook as he walks out the door.


	6. One

_**One Week Until Christmas** _

The first signs of the winter holidays come in a flurry of white, as snow dusts the window ledges and leaves an ever deepening layer on the pavement.

Realistically, the snow will probably be gone by Wednesday, but Harry isn’t going to object. It’s a magical welcome, he feels, and with only one week left until Christmas day it’s really about time.

That being said, the snow isn’t quite as nice when he’s walking through ever intensifying flurries because he’s managed to leave his iPod in the back room of the cafe. It’s just an iPod, and maybe it’s not worth it to trek back to a cold and closed cafe just to retrieve it, but to be without it all during the holidays seems very lonely. How is he supposed to make delicious Christmas cookies without being able to jam out to his baking playlist? He isn’t, that’s how.

Unlocking the front door with the key he’s borrowed from Niall, he slips inside to the dark and silent room. Being a campus location with almost entirely student employees, and mainly student customers, Bobby long ago decided that the cafe would just close entirely for the winter holidays, and open up again when everyone gets back for the start of the next term. It means that the heating has been turned down quite low to save on energy since no one is there anyway, and Harry thinks if it got any colder he would be able to see his breath.

He locates his iPod easily enough, sitting on the shelf below the register where the mugs are kept. He breathes on the connected headphones to warm them up before sticking them in his ears and turning on the iPod, hitting play and hearing the OneRepublic song start back up from where it had been paused a few days ago.

Eager to get back to where it’s warm, maybe even crawl into bed for a few more hours just because it’s break and he can, Harry hastens to leave and lock up behind him. The wind bites at his cheek as he double checks that it’s locked.

Turning to begin the journey home, however, he’s met with an unexpected face.

“Louis!” Harry says with surprise. Louis isn’t dressed for the weather, with only a jumper and no coat. He clearly feels the cold, the way he’s got his arms wrapped around himself.

“Hey Harry,” Louis returns the greeting. He sounds a little confused though, and Harry realises why when he follows Louis’ gaze to the closed coffee shop. 

“Oh yeah, we always close during Christmas Hols,” Harry says. “Since most people are going home and all…”

Louis nods. “Ah…” He doesn’t move, though. He’s frowning, like he’s trying to process the information given him. He’s also shivering and Harry resists the urge to just wrap him in a hug. For the sake of warmth, of course. For the first time, Harry wonders why Louis spends so many hours every day in the cafe. 

“So then… What are you doing with the rest of your day?” Harry asks, trying to make this odd exchange a little less awkward. 

Louis glances at him and his frown only increases. “Not sure, really. Suppose I’ll have to find another cafe to sit in. Hopefully one not too far away.”

The only other cafe that Harry knows about that isn’t part of the university is a Costa about three miles away. He’s more than a little afraid Louis would have frostbite by then. Frostbite leads to toes falling off. Harry doesn’t want Louis’ toes to fall off.

“Well it’s not a cafe, but my flat isn’t too far away, if you want?” Harry asks. It’s going to feel fairly empty anyway, with Niall leaving soon. Company would be nice. Very fit company is a plus, but that’s neither here nor there.

Louis looks like an animal caught in the headlights now, however. “No, I- I couldn’t possibly. Listen, it’s fine, I wouldn’t want to take up your time-”

“No, really it’s fine,” Harry rushes to interrupt. “Like, it’s just Niall and I and he’s packing to go home to Ireland so it’s really boring right now. Not that I expect you to entertain me or anything! Shit, all I mean is I can make a mean tea and you look really cold. Come on, it would make me feel better? I can at least loan you some clothes to warm up in. And I don’t mind if they come back pink and sparkly, really!”

Louis looks like he’s still not too keen on saying yes. He also looks like he’s really cold, though, and those two sides are clearly warring it out inside of him.

“I- I guess I could come over for just a bit,” he says hesitantly.

That’s enough for Harry though. “Great!” he exclaims. “My flat is just down the road this way. And I’ve got all the ingredients for Christmas cookies if you’d like some fresh ones! I’ve got some gingerbread I made over the weekend, but Niall says it’s a little tough to eat which I think is awfully rude of him, since he’s already eaten most of it.”

He’s rambling as he makes the hike back to his flat, checking every couple of seconds to make sure Louis is by his side. He doesn’t mind that Louis’ quiet, really. Filling awkward silences with equally awkward chatter has always been Harry’s specialty.

“...And one year I tried to make Christmas cookie ornaments. Because you know how kids make gingerbread that gets really stale and they can hang it on the tree and it still smells like gingerbread every year when you get it out of the box? Hm, maybe you don’t. But trust me it does! Anyway I made sugar cookies thinking that those would work the same way. But they didn’t. That was the year we had a mouse problem. Mum always says it’s because of the cookies but I think it’s because that’s the year Gemma realised she could hide snacks in her room so that she’s not being judged for how much she eats. Trust me, she eats more than a horse so I can kind of understand it, but that didn’t stop me from just searching through her stuff until I found her hidden crisps and then making fun of her for hiding them - Oh, here’s my building.”

He can hear Louis laughing softly behind him as he searches for his key card. “Sorry, I don’t know if you realised I’m a bit of a rambler. Gemma makes fun of me for it all the time, so I don’t mind if you do too. Well, really everybody does. Niall especially. He says he likes to see how much of my food he can eat while I’m talking before I notice which is also very rude of him. Speaking of which, if he’s eaten all the gingerbread I’m going to force him to make the next batch because I’ve only had, like four pieces. He was right though, it was sort of tough this time around.”

The elevator is broken because the elevator is _always_ broken, so the trek up the stairs slows Harry’s stories. He makes this hike daily yet it still never fails to wind him.

“Anyway the point is I’m making Christmas cookies today, and if you’d like I really need a taste tester.”

He glances at Louis as he says after pulling out his room key. Delightfully, Louis seems quite endeared by this and isn’t trying to hide his grin. “If you needed a cookie taster you should have just said so. I’m professionally trained you know, growing up in a house of almost entirely girls.”

“Heey,” Harry pouts. “I think that might be sexist. Or maybe you’re insulting my masculinity. One of those.”

Louis actually laughs out loud this time, which is a sound Harry wants to have recorded and kept forever. “Of course not, I’m actually complimenting your ability to fight against gender norms.”

“Well I’m not entirely sure I believe you, but I suppose that was a nice recovery so I’ll let it slide.” Harry grins as he finally gets the door unlocked (it’s prone to sticking) and motions for Louis to go into the flat in front of him. 

He takes a moment to be embarrassed about the state of the flat. Generally on the best of days the living room is a little crowded, with the overstuffed plush armchair, the huge tweed ottoman and the slightly threadbare couch with enough pillows on it to create the best pillow fort one’s heart would desire. The room isn’t really meant to hold much more than that but added into the mix is the bookcase (full of primarily DVDs and a small old TV) and quite a number of Christmas decorations. Such as the tree in the corner that brushes the ceiling and the set of stuffed reindeers that are lined up neatly on the wall nearest the kitchenette.

Also of course there’s the lifesize Frosty the Snowman figure. Harry regrets putting that one out now, it might make the room a bit too garish.

“Wow,” is all Louis says for a moment. Then, “I don’t know if that snowman is jolly or sinister.”

“A bit of both, I think,” Harry says. “The movies never really made it clear to me whether he was chaotic neutral or lawful good with a bad sense of the law.”

“Either way, I don’t think I would chance a snowman in my living room that could come to life at any moment. Isn’t this just a horror movie in the making?”

“A Christmas themed horror movie?” Harry looks at him askance. “I don’t think those exist. I don’t think those _can_ exist. They’re opposites!”

“Have you never heard of the great American classic _Grandma’s Got Run Over by a Reindeer_?” Louis asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I have never and I plan to never again,” Harry says, making a mental note to look it up online later. “But anyway we have more important things to do: we need cookies!”

As would be expected of anyone, Louis doesn't seem entirely comfortable in Harry's flat. He stands awkwardly in the kitchen entrance as Harry putters around getting baking supplies out.

"What kind of cookies do you like?" Harry asks. He's pretty sure he's stocked up enough to make about anything. Except oatmeal raisin. Oatmeal raisin cookies are horrible, though, had he may need to seriously question Louis's sanity if he asks for those. 

Louis doesn't ask for oatmeal raisin. "I thought you were making gingerbread?"

"I mean, I _can_ , but what if that's not your preference? What if you hate gingerbread? I've never enquired to your cookie tastes before, and I'd hate to offend them."

Louis shrugs and tries to tell him that anything would be fine.

Harry shakes his head. "None of that," he tells Louis sternly. "The guest always picks the cookies."'

"This happens often enough that you have a rule?" Louis asks, apparently intrigued.

"Well, no," Harry admits. "Niall always demands my guinness brownies, so I've stopped asking him. But if he's home that's normally what I end up making."

"Guinness brownies?" Louis makes a face. "Is that like the Irish version of pot brownies?"

"Maybe," Harry says. He shares a conspiratorial look. "I don't think he realises that all of the alcohol is gone by the time they're done baking though."

Louis suppresses a giggle. "Better not tell him."

Harry laughs and agrees. "Anyway, back to the question at hand. I need to make the cookies of your dreams. Tell me your favourite cookie."

"I seriously don't have a favourite," Louis argues weakly.

"That's a lie and we both know it. Out with it!"

"Well... I'm partial to shortbread..."

Harry gives him a concerned look. "Are you a grandmother? My grandmother loves shortbread."

"Well you asked!" Louis protests. 

"You're right," Harry thanks the Lord that it's not oatmeal raisin. Thankful for the small things, that's him. "And that's what we'll make! Shortbread means butter, so we'd better get working!"

Louis, apparently, has never baked before in his life. He claims that his sisters love baking and he was never allowed in the kitchen because it was "girl time".

So they make a mess of everything. There's flour everywhere, mostly, and a fair amount of sugar too. Harry eventually took away Louis's whisk and made him finish mixing the dough with a fork because it made less of a mess.

A little less.

He puts on his best baking playlist and they talk about Christmas traditions the whole time. Harry grew up waking up his sister at the break of dawn every Christmas morning in time for cinnamon rolls and bacon, because they weren't allowed to open presents until after breakfast. Louis says that his sisters and he would stay up to try to catch Santa, and every year they would fall asleep on the living room floor in front of the tree, and wake up the next morning surrounded by presents. When Louis got too old to believe in Santa, he still pretended for his sisters' sake, and then would carry them up to bed with his parents when they fell asleep.

"So do you have any siblings who still believe?" Harry asks, gathering the oven mitts to take the cookies out.

"Nah, Fizzy spilled the beans to the twins on accident, so we're all in the same boat now. There was a huge fight when they found out because they thought she was lying to them."

Harry laughs. "I think I figured it out when we had a money drive for kids at school who couldn't afford presents. I was like, why isn't Santa giving them presents too?"

"You're too rational," Louis shakes his head. "That makes too much sense."

The timer dings and Harry opens the oven, letting out a puff of hot air. "I think I annoyed my mum with it. She loved pretending Santa's reindeers ate the carrots we laid out and stuff."

He pops a cookie into his mouth even though it's much too hot, and immediately regrets it, spitting it into the trash.

"Are they not good?" Louis asks, shocked. 

Harry shakes his head. Then nods. Then shakes his head again. 'Jus' hot," He says, trying to air out his tongue. "Burn' me mouf."

Louis breaks into a laugh and Harry fills and downs a glass of water from the sink. It helps a little.

"We should let them cool," he says. "How about a movie?"

Louis nods. "If you want," he says. "I don't want to overstay my welcome."

"Of course not!" Harry says, appalled. "Come on, I've got the best collection of Christmas movies! Everything you could want. Have you seen _Arthur Christmas_?"

They watch _The Grinch Who Stole Christmas_ first, because you can't beat the classics. Then they look up _Grandma got Run Over by a Reindeer_ on Harry's laptop and get about ten minutes into that before deciding it's just too much, so they put on _It's a Wonderful Life_ instead.

Louis seems a little sleepy when they first sit down on the couch, one on each end, and when Harry gets up to make tea halfway through _Grinch_ , Louis looks at him like he's an angel. By fifteen minutes into _It's a Wonderful Life_ , the tea mug is empty on the carpet in front of him and his eyelids are drooping. Harry thinks he might die from how adorable Louis is acting. 

When he finally gives in and Harry can hear soft snores coming from the other end of the couch, he looks over to see Louis's head lolling uncomfortably onto his shoulder, still sitting straight up on the couch. Harry gets up long enough to grab a quilt from the pile in the corner and cover Louis's lap with it. 

He's all soft edges and feathery hair, and a layer of anxiety that covers him all day is gone now. Harry could look at him all day like this, but of course that would be creepy, so he won't. Much.

Louis sleeps through the rest of the movie as the sky outside gets steadily darker. Harry wonders if he should wake him up, but he looks like he needs sleep so badly that he doesn't have the heart to. Eventually he slides down the couch and curls up with his knees to his chest, head almost brushing Harry's thigh. Harry _doesn't_ take a picture because that would be _weird_. But he does card his hand through Louis's hair a couple times.

He puts on _Arthur Christmas_ next even though Louis is clearly going to sleep though it. He probably would, too, if it wasn't for the Irish whirlwind that comes in through the door just as Arthur has concluded that they came to the wrong Trelew.

"Harry!" Niall shouts, oblivious to anything and everything. "They delayed my flight so I stayed over at Liam's and now I'm late! I gotta go!" He runs for his room with a wave, not even noticing the other boy on the couch.

Louis, of course, wakes with a start the second Niall starts yelling. He jolts awake, hitting his head against Harry's leg, and then sits up, looking wide eyed around him, clearly not entirely awake yet. 

"Wha-?" he slurs, rubbing his eyes. "Fuck, what time is it? Oh fuck I fell asleep, I'm so sorry, I should go-"

"No, don't worry about it," Harry assurs him but Louis still looks quite worried. "It's almost nine, do you need a ride somewhere? I don't have a car but I can borrow Niall's since he's going to be gone anyway."

"No, no don't worry about it, I- shit." Louis runs a hand through his hair. "I don't actually- fuck. I should get going, I've been here too long, I don't want to overstay. You've been so nice, really you have."

He looks like he's about to cry now, lower lip sort of quivering and hands still nervously running through his hair.

"No, Louis stop," Harry reaches out a hand to slow him as Louis starts toward the door. "Tell me what's going on, something's up. Do you- I want to make sure you get wherever you're going safely. Can I at least walk you somewhere? Let me put the extra cookies in a bag for you too."

Louis shakes his head. "No, no I'll be fine."

"No," Harry's grip on Louis's arm doesn't loosen. "Tell me what's going on. I swear I just want to help. Come sit down."

Louis stands still for a moment, and Harry worries that he's going to make a run for it. But then he backs up and sits down on the couch, looking down at his hands in his lap. Harry's pretty sure they can both hear Niall noisily packing his bags in the bedroom.

"I-" Louis gulps and Harry feels the need to hold his hand. He doesn't, but he does move his hand over just enough that it's touching Louis's. 

"My sisters are all gone right now," he says. 

"What? Do you mean..." Harry trails off. He thinks Louis might need more tea.

"No- no I don't mean like they're dead," Louis clarifies. "I mean, my mom took them all for Christmas Hols. My parents- they have joint custody, they got divorced a few years back."

Harry tries to put the pieces together. "But you aren't there with them? Do you need a ride? Are you not on good terms?"

Louis looks like he almost smiles at Harry's rambling questions. His eyes are welled with tears, though. "No, we're, um, we're not exactly. Not since she found an old picture someone posted to my facebook of a drunk me kissing my ex at a party."

"Oh my god," Harry has no clue what to say. His family was all terribly accepting when he burst into the kitchen one day after school feeling the need to announce the name of his latest crush, Ethan, to his mum and Gemma.

He wants to pull Louis in for a hug. Are they at that stage yet in their friendship? Fuck it, there are real tears on Louis's cheeks, they're definitely at that point.

It's sort of an awkward side hug since they're sitting next to each other, but when Harry holds his arms out Louis accepts the hug readily.

"Thanks," he murmurs, pulling away after a minute. "I mean- it was a while ago, but she's, um, she is still my mum, you know?"

Harry nods. He knows mums. 

"But I don't- I'm not exactly welcome in her house, you know? She still loves my sisters, and I'm sure she still loves me deep down, right? But my sisters, they need their mum. That's what important."

Harry nods again.

"But- but then back at the beginning of the school year, things got a little fucked up, you know? I never told my dad about not staying at Mum's - I've just been staying at my friend Stan's dorm when my sisters stay with her. But when we were all at my dad's, my sister Lotts was asking for money for clothes, and Dad wasn't giving it to her, said it was something she had to earn. And she's made some bad decisions. She's still a kid, you know? 

"She fucked up, is all. And she's done this a couple times before, but she took some money from his wallet one night, sort of a lot of money really. And of course he found out, but she was so scared, and she's been caught a couple of times before, you know? So I took the fall, b-because I know what it's like for a parent to lose all faith in you, and it's something I never want any of them experiencing."

"Lou..." Harry pulls him in for another hug. "No one should have to make a decision like that, or even know what that feels like. I'm so sorry."

Louis shakes his head, steadying his breath a little. He's leaning into Harry's side now, when did that happen?

In the silence, Harry notices that he can no longer hear Niall moving around. He'd bet anything that fucker is listening in.

"Well, so my dad made it a rule that I can only be home when he's home, because he can't trust me, he says. He made me give back my key. Which is why I've been at the coffeeshop, he doesn't get home until late most nights, and on the weekends I'm at Stan's. But Stan's home for Christmas and forgot to leave me a key, and my sisters are all with my mum down south with her family, but my dad didn't know that I'm not staying with her, right, and he's up in Scotland with _his_ family now, and I don't have a key to his house either-" Louis stopped to take a breath.

"So where are you staying?" asks Harry, confused.

Louis looks at him. "I don't know," he says, voice steady. "I only figured it out today when I realised I had missed Stan. I was going to figure that out while I was at the coffee shop. Maybe find a 24 hour cafe and camp in the corner. I've got an application in for the dorms but that doesn't start until January." He shrugs a little helplessly. "Could I maybe use your laptop to search for a hostel?"

Harry frowns. "You're not staying at a hostel."

"Not _yet_ I'm not," Louis tries to joke.

"Hell no you're not!" Niall calls from his room, startling both of them, jolting awkwardly away from each other. Harry feels sad at how cold his side suddenly feels.

Niall runs into the living room. He was definitely listening the whole time. "Take my room," he says, tossing Louis a key, which Louis is completely unprepared for and gets hit in the face by. "I'm heading back to Mullingar, I'm fucking late is what I am, and I would feel personally offended if you didn't stay in my room."

Louis's eyes are wide, and Harry wonders a little how he didn't see this coming. Niall has a gleam in his eye that tells Harry that even when he gets back from Ireland, he's forcing Louis to continue to stay with them. There's nothing Niall loves more than a forceful matchmaking.

"I- I couldn't possibly," Louis says, looking between them wide eyed. "I swear I didn't tell you the story to try to get in your house, oh fuck I've way overshared. I just never talk about myself around people anymore and it all fucking came out, I'm so sorry you just had to hear all that dirty laundry-"

"Louis," Harry says. "I'm making you tea. Please stop talking."

He gets up to make Louis tea. Louis stops talking.

"Mate, it's Christmas," he hears Niall inform Louis. "No one should be alone at Christmas, that's both sad _and_ pathetic."

"Stop being insulting, Niall!' Harry calls from the kitchen.

"The point is!" Niall yells to make sure Harry hears. "Think of it as a Christmas present! From us!"

"To our favourite regular!" Harry calls. He hears Louis groan.

"You can't pull that card forever!" Louis calls back. His voice is still a little hoarse but he's able to joke so Harry's counting a win.

"I can!" Harry yells. He's microwaved water for tea because he needed it fast, Louis is such a tea purist hopefully he never finds out. "Bobby owns the coffee shop, we can do what we want!"

He walks back into the living room and hands Louis the tea. "You're staying here, or else you're going to make Niall stay to convince you and he's going to miss his flight to Ireland and then I'm going to be stuck with him all week and trust me no one wants that."

Niall shakes his head. "I want to be in Ireland. So please accept this offer so that I can leave." He sounds terribly serious.

Louis sighs. "I'm doing this under duress," he clarifies.

Harry nods. "I know."

"I don't want to be a burden, I can pay rent or something, I've got stuff saved up."

"Any rent you pay will just be used to buy Christmas presents for you," Harry says. "Think carefully."

"That's fucked up," Louis says. He turns to Niall. "Go catch your plane then, I guess I'll stay in your room."

Niall high fives Harry. "You're gonna want to change the sheets," he tells Louis, very seriously.

Louis looks at him in disgust. "I'm sleeping on the couch," he says, just as seriously.

"Suit yourself!" Niall says as he shoulders his bags and makes for the door. "Also, lock the door behind me. I don't have a key now."

When Harry has gotten up and locked the door, he turns to Louis. "Want to start over _Arthur Christmas_?" he asks. This is going to be great. He's not going to be alone for the holidays.


	7. Epilogue (of Sorts)

**_Christmas Eve_ **

Louis and Harry stay up way too late on Christmas Eve.

It had started with Harry saying that it was impossible to watch all the Harry Potter movies in one day. They're always on around the Christmas Holidays, and it had gotten them talking about just how long it would take to watch all of them.

Neither one of them are able to figure the math out. They come up with a different answer every time. They also have had a few drinks each at this point.

So they start a Harry Potter marathon at seven in the evening. 

They last until about four in the morning, blearily keeping their eyes open to hear about the Triwizard Tournament, sometimes trading stories with each other during the quieter parts. It's something that they've learned they like over the past week. Harry almost never gets to tell an entire story because people say he talks too slow and are always cutting him off. That's something Louis never does, and it was a wonderful new experience for him.

"My little sisters are really afraid of thunderstorms," Louis says as Harry hurries through the maze.

"Yeah?" Harry asks, his head on Louis's shoulder. He thinks he may have already been asleep when Louis started talking. He's so sleepy.

"That one day a couple weeks ago, it was raining so hard," Louis says.

"Yeah," Harry says. "I remember that. Thought I scared you off."

Louis chuckles. "Of course not. Daisy and Phoebe, they're both little scaredy cats. They'll run and hide under their bed together, it's horrible. And I wasn't technically allowed home yet, but I knew the girls would let me in. They needed me."

Harry agrees. "It was the right thing to do."

"Dad was so mad when he got home and I was already there," Louis whispers dejectedly. "I slept at Stan's that night. He kicked me out."

"I'm sorry," Harry says, rubbing his cheek against Louis's hair. This has all become surprisingly normal for them. "You can stay here any time you want. Niall's probably already made another key."

"Yeah," Louis says, and he doesn't question it this time.

The Triwizard Cup is a portkey. Louis starts softly snoring, one hand laced with Harry's.

-

Christmas morning doesn't exist for Louis and Harry. They don't wake up until well after noon, laying splayed over one another on the couch.

Harry makes tea for Louis. They skype Niall, and they skype Liam and Zayn. They settle in for four more Harry Potter movies. It's softly snowing outside the window and Harry thinks the Christmas decorations at the coffee shop probably finally match the weather. Too bad they won't be back for another week yet.

(Louis and Harry kiss under the mistletoe that night).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I joined this fandom (a fair while ago now), I did so because I stumbled upon some One Direction fanfiction. So I took the opportunity with this Big Bang to write out the first ever fic idea that I came up with and then was too nervous at the time to write. So of course it's a coffeeshop fic. ...please don't judge me.
> 
> Thanks to my two betas who looked over this _numerous_ times when I was still scared something was wrong! Quotes from my betas include; _  
> "You do know baristas and barristers aren't the same, right?"  
>  "None of this is accurate food industry"   
> "there's no way they're making money"   
> "they just close for the holidays??"   
> "Seriously this cafe would have gone bankrupt by now"_
> 
> and a bonus quote from my artist:  
>  _"this is so cute I'm on fire"_

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on tumblr at [LondonFoginaCup](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com), and if you're so inclined you could reblog the [fic post](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/post/140286329449/six-weeks-ladylondonderry) for this fic as well!


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